I'm back! I've had the week from hell and just haven't had time to sit down and write. Big week at work, but now it's behind me and I had time to just sit down and get these words put down. Anyone ready for some Danny? I hope you like it.

Cindy

John stood next to Sam's bedside, his dark eyes taking in every bruise, cut and scrape. He yearned to touch his boy, but was afraid to do so. Sam looked so frail, his small body nearly swallowed up by the hospital bed. Wires and tubes seemed to come from everywhere, John aware that one of those tubes was coming from his baby's chest. He reached up and adjusted the mask on his face, the man hating having to wear it, but understanding why. He couldn't risk bringing anything into the room that could hurt his son. Finally, he worked up the nerve and reached out a shaky hand and rested it on Sam's forehead. The boy felt slightly warm, but to John any kind of fever was frightening. Fever could mean infection and infection for Sam could be life threatening. He moved his hand down to cup Sam's cheek, his thumb gently brushing over the boy's long eyelashes before moving over his temple. He reached down and took Sam's small hand into his and squeezed it tenderly.

"God, kiddo. I don't know what to say to you," John started, his voice low and gravely as he gazed upon his unconscious son. "Look at me, a grown man…hunter extraordinaire and I'm scared to death right now."

John dropped his head and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Sam's hand felt so fragile in his, like if he just squeezed a little bit tighter it would break. John raised his head and opened his eyes, the man once again gazing down upon his boy. He turned his head and spotted a chair a few feet away. He reached out his foot and hooked the chair then pulled it to the bed. He sat wearily down upon the cushioned seat and rested his elbows on the side of the bed. The hand that cupped Sam's cheek moved up, fingers brushing though the boy's messy mop of hair.

"Sammy…I'm so sorry. I did this to you. I forgot about you when Danny…I hurt you and now…now here you are," John whispered brokenly, his voice cracking under the emotions washing over him.

John continued to watch his son, his fingers absently carding through the boy's hair, hoarse voice whispering anything he could think of in hopes that Sam could hear him. The sound of the glass door sliding open brought John's attention away from his boy and he sighed wearily when a middle aged woman wearing scrubs and a surgical mask entered the room.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm sorry, but your time is up for now. I need to check Sam's vitals and change his dressings. You can come back in an hour," the nurse said apologetically.

"I need to stay with him. I won't get in the way," John said as he gazed up at the nurse with pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could let you stay, but I can't. It's only an hour…"

"He's just a little kid. If he wakes up and I'm not here he'll panic," John interrupted.

"He's heavily sedated, Mr. Winchester. He won't wake up, I assure you. Now, you can talk to Dr. Jungers about extending your visiting time, but for right now, I have to ask you to leave. I'm sorry," the nurse said softly.

John sighed, knowing he would get nowhere with this nurse. He understood the reasons for the rules, but the thought of leaving Sam all alone tore at his heart. He gazed down at his son and smiled sadly. He leaned over and planted a tender kiss on Sam's forehead then whispered softly in his ear that he would be back as soon as he was allowed. He backed away from the bed, but found it difficult to let go of his baby's hand. Finally, he gently lowered Sam's hand to the bed and with one last look, he turned and left the room, sliding the glass door closed behind him. He turned back around and peered longingly through the glass, watching as the nurse took Sam's vitals before gently beginning the task of removing his bandages and replacing them with new ones. John smiled as he continued to watch the nurse, her lips constantly moving as she worked on Sam. Finally, after having determined that Sam was in good hands, he turned away and walked down the hall to the bank of elevators that would take him to his other sons.

"When is he going to wake up, Dad?" Dean's tired voice asked, his green eyes staring over at the bed that held his unconscious brother.

John glanced warily at his middle son and sighed. "I don't know. He'll wake up when he's ready I guess," he answered.

"At least they moved me into his room," Dean said softly as he cast his gaze to his father's face.

John smiled tiredly and nodded. It'd taken some convincing, but finally Dr. Swenson had agreed to allow Dean to be moved into his big brother's room. She'd explained the special care a patient who had just gone through surgery required, but was finally persuaded that the best medicine for the teen was to be where he could see his brother. Dean had been settled in while John had been up with Sam and the man was thankful that Joshua and Caleb had been there to watch over his older boys so he could be with his youngest. Joshua and Caleb had gone to the hospital cafeteria for a quick bite once John had returned with the promise of bringing him back something since he refused to leave his boys alone. Well, at least two of his boys weren't alone. John reached out and took Dean's hand, an action that would have normally seen the teen pulling said hand away and whispering Christo, but under the circumstances, Dean was happy to have the contact.

"Dean, he's going to be fine. He's just very tired and had a pretty good knock on the head. The doctor said all of his scans look good," John said reassuringly.

Dean nodded, his green eyes sweeping back to his brother before coming to rest once again on his father. "What about Sammy? Is he doing any better?" he asked, his voice full of worry.

John sighed again, knowing it wasn't going to be what Dean wanted to hear. "He's still sedated, but at least he's getting the rest he needs," he said softly.

"But, he's not doing any better is he?" Dean questioned.

"He's still very sick, Dean…but you know your little brother. He's a fighter…" John answered, his words cut off by a soft groan coming from the other bed.

John jerked his head around, as did Dean, before he quickly rose from his chair and leaned over Daniel's bed. He reached down and ran his fingers gently over the teen's cheek while at the same time speaking to him in a hushed voice.

"Danny…that's it, son…wake up for me. Open your eyes now," he coaxed, a warm smile breaking out on his lips when Daniel's tired eyes blinked open and stared up at him.

"D'd?" the teen whispered as he continued to blink his eyes.

"Yeah, kiddo…it's me. Dean's here too," John answered as he moved a little to the side so that Dean could see his brother.

"Hey, Danny…how's the head?" Dean called softly, his green eyes filled with concern for his big brother.

Daniel rolled his head in the direction of Dean's voice and squinted in the subdued light. "D'n? You 'kay?" he asked, the big brother in him coming to the forefront even in his condition.

"I'm fine, Danny. You're the one who got his brains scrambled back in that cave," Dean answered with a smile.

"B'ch," Daniel murmured, a slight grin curling his lips.

"Jerk," Dean quipped in return, his green eyes sweeping up to meet his father's amused brown ones before moving back to his brother.

Daniel's eyes scanned the room then he rolled his head to the other side. When he turned back toward his family, his eyes were wide with confusion. "W's S'my?" he asked in a slurred, tired voice.

"Danny…just get some rest. We'll talk later," John said, not wanting to have this conversation so soon after Daniel waking up.

"D'd…what's goin' on?" Daniel asked, his voice a bit clearer now as panic began to course through him.

John glanced at Dean's worried face then turned back to Daniel. He brushed his hand over his face and looked down at his feet. Finally, he lifted his head and gazed down at his eldest boy. "Sammy is very sick, Danny," he said, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched his son's face pale even more than it already was.

"How sick?" Daniel asked softly.

"He…he was hurt…worse than he let on. His shoulder was separated somehow and he broke three ribs. Somewhere along the way in finding us, he was attacked by a mountain lion…"

"What?" Daniel cried in alarm, the teen hissing as pain spiked through his head.

"He got clawed pretty good on his back, but they stitched him up," John answered.

"'s not all though. What else?" Daniel queried.

"Uh…he…he got jarred and…and one of the broken ribs punctured his lung," John replied softly.

Daniel closed his eyes and rolled his head away. "My fault…'s my fault," he whispered before a sob shook his body.

"What? No…Danny, this isn't your fault. Don't say that," John said as he reached over and gently turned Daniel's head back around.

Daniel looked up at him, his eyes filled with misery. "Yeah it is. 'm the oldest…I sh'da kept 'im safe," he whispered as his eyes swept over to Dean. "Both of 'em."

"Danny…I'm fine," Dean said, his green eyes locking with Daniel's.

Daniel looked down at Dean's casted leg and shook his head. "Don't look fine," he said softly.

"Danny," John said, bringing his son's attention back to him. "None of this is your fault. I'm the one who didn't listen to Sammy. I'm the one who is responsible for all of you. If anyone is to blame, it's me," he continued.

"D'd…"

"No…I'm not going to let you accept blame, Danny. I shouldn't have made you boys go off on your own. Now I don't want to hear anymore about this being your fault," John said sternly.

"Yes, sir," Daniel whispered.

"Good," John said as he gave his son a pat on the knee.

"Dad? Is…is Sammy gonna die?" Daniel suddenly asked, his eyes wide with fear as he watched his father's face.

John's mouth dropped open as he gazed at his eldest son's face. He reached for Daniel's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, his heart breaking at the despair he witnessed on the teen's face. "No, Danny. Sam's going to be fine. They're taking real good care of him," he answered.

"Is Caleb and Josh with him?"

"No. He can't have visitors all of the time," John answered.

"But…he's alone. Sammy doesn't like to be alone," Daniel whispered tiredly.

"Danny, he's sleeping. They have him sedated to keep him still while the chest tube is in…"

"Ch-chest tube? Dad…"

"It's okay, Danny. It's just there to help his lung re-establish the proper pressure…or whatever. That's what Sam's doctor told me anyway," John said wearily.

Daniel stared up at his father, his wet eyes drooping heavily. "He's all 'lone," he whispered as his eyes slowly closed and his breathing evened out.

John brushed his fingers through Daniel's hair and gazed down at the now sleeping teen. "Rest, Danny," he whispered before moving back to the chair and sinking down into the seat.

John turned his head and met the tired eyes of his middle son. "You should get some sleep too, Dean," he said.

"I'm…" Dean started, but was interrupted when the door to the room opened and a tall man in a doctor's coat entered the room.

John glanced nervously over at Dean before slowly rising to his feet and stepping toward the doctor. "Dr. Jungers…uh…what're you doing here?" he asked shakily.

"Mr. Winchester, why don't we step out into the hall so we can talk in private," the doctor said in reply, his brown eyes glancing down at Dean before returning to John's face.

"No…if this is about Sammy, I want to hear it too," Dean said, his green eyes glaring up at the doctor defiantly.

"Uh…I think your father and I should talk…"

"It's okay. Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of him," John interrupted.

Dr. Jungers looked back down at Dean then up at John. Finally, he nodded and moved toward John. "I'm afraid I don't have good news," he said nervously.

"What is it? What's wrong with my brother?" Dean cried before John could even open his mouth to speak.

"Despite our best efforts, Sam has developed an infection in his lung and…"

"What!? How could this happen? You said you had him on antibiotics!" John shot angrily, his anger driven by overwhelming fear.

"Mr. Winchester, Sam's weakened condition was too much, even for the treatment he has been receiving. In all likelihood, he already had an infection starting, but the infection in the claw marks masked the fact that he also had an infection beginning in his lung," the doctor explained.

"I don't understand. How could he get an infection that fast? If his lung was punctured on the helicopter and he got treatment right away, how could he have developed an infection?" John asked with bewilderment.

"Why do you think Sam punctured his lung on the helicopter?" the doctor asked.

"Well, he got bumped and fell onto the floor. I just assumed that's when the rib punctured his lung. I mean…he couldn't have had it sooner than that…could he?" John asked warily.

"Mr. Winchester, Sam could have punctured his lung hours before he collapsed," Dr. Jungers said.

"What? How can that be?" Dean exclaimed from his bed.

"He would have had pain and most likely would have had some trouble breathing, but the adrenaline would have masked that somewhat," the doctor answered.

"But, he didn't jar his ribs anytime after he found us until the helicopter. That means he did it beforehand," John said, his eyes staring off as he thought about what this new information meant.

"Dad…what about when the mountain lion attacked him?" Dean asked.

"Oh God…that has to be when it happened. He was suffering all that time. Son of a bitch!" John cried.

John collapsed down into his chair and dropped his head into his hands. Finally, he looked up at the doctor and sighed. "So, what do we do now? How do we get him through this?" he asked softly.

"Well, we up the dosage of antibiotics and we keep him in complete isolation for right now…"

"What? Complete isolation? What does that mean?" John asked warily.

"It means no visitors I'm afraid. We'll move Sam to an isolation room so that he has a completely clean environment to recover in. We may also need to intubate him if his breathing worsens," Dr. Jungers explained.

"When?" John asked softly.

"Excuse me?" the doctor replied.

"When do you move him?" John said as he glanced up at the doctor.

"He's being moved as we speak."

John nodded and dropped his head to his hands again. Dr. Jungers watched the man for a few moments before turning and leaving the Winchesters to digest this new, terrifying turn of events.

"Dad?" Dean's scared voice sounded and John raised his head to glance over at his son. "Sammy's gonna be okay, right?"

John sat up and took Dean's hand in his, giving it a squeeze as he gazed into the teen's frightened green eyes. "I hope so, Dean…I hope so."

So, don't say you didn't know it was coming. As soon as you ready 'possible chance of infection' you had to know what was going to happen! lol I'm evil...I admit it and I will not apologize for it! lol Please let me know what you think. Take care and love you all.

Cindy